


Rosie's An Experiment

by crayonbreakygal



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Massive amounts of fluff, Romance, Sherlock Being Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 07:30:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9425975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayonbreakygal/pseuds/crayonbreakygal
Summary: Sherlock uses Rosie for an experiment.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fluffiest piece of fiction I've ever written. My teeth hurt so much writing this because Sherlock is being so cute, and a bit devious.

“Rosie’s An Experiment”

Takes place after The Final Problem, season four.

“You asked her out?”

“Yes.”

“And she said no?”

“Yes,” he growled back, slumping into his leather chair, long legs over the side.

Sherlock Holmes had screwed up, royally. Now he was asking John Watson, his best friend, for help.  Would wonders never cease?

“Why?”

“Why?  I don’t really know why, that’s why I’m asking for your help.”

Sherlock was going to add you idiot. John knew that, but by the look on Sherlock’s face, this really was serious.

“Do you know why she said no?  How did you ask her?”

“I, I don’t remember,” Sherlock answered, turning in the chair so that John could not see his face.

“You know her answer yet you don’t remember how you asked? Say something entirely inappropriate?  Remind her about her past errors in judgment?”

“Well, I guess I might have…”

“And there’s your problem.”

“Problem?  I don’t have a problem.”

John laughed at this.  The man went and cocked it up majorly.  Molly had forgiven Sherlock too many times to count.  Was this the straw that broke the camel’s back?

“You don’t think you have a problem, but Molly thinks that you do.”

Sherlock turned to look at him.

“Can I borrow Rosie?”

“No,” John answered, turning the page in the newspaper.

“I’ll bring her back unharmed.”

“No,” John yelled.

“Just a little experiment.”

“Absolutely not. I will not let you use my daughter to get a date with Molly Hooper.”

“Is that what you thought I was going to do?”

John smirked back at him.  He knew Sherlock too well.

“You will not use my daughter to get back into the good graces of Molly.”

 

“Adorable.”

Sherlock bought Rosie a small hat just like his own, placed it on her head and rang the doorbell.

Molly’s look of surprise said it all.  She wasn’t expecting Sherlock to show up with Rosie in his arms, hat askew on the toddler’s head. Rosie grinned at Molly and stuck out her arms to be taken in by the pathologist.  She was one of Rosie’s favorites.

“Mol, Mol, Mol,” Rosie chanted as Molly hugged her tight.

“What is it that you want, Sherlock? I’m busy.”

She most certainly did not look busy with her hair braided, her pajamas still on even though it was the afternoon.

“I have Rosie for the afternoon and wondered if you wanted to go to the park, with me, and Rosie.”

Rosie picked up on the word park and started to clap her hands.

“Park,” she chanted.

Molly rolled her eyes at Sherlock.

“Of course.  Let me get changed.”

She could never say no to Rosie.  Handing Rosie back to Sherlock, Molly went back into her bedroom to change.

Sherlock knew she could not resist Rosie, ever.  The girl was such a good child, happy and fun to be around.  Sherlock was someone different when he was around his god-daughter.  The man seemed to actually like children, possibly because he sometimes reverted to being a small child himself.  He related.

After changing and washing up, she came back into the room to see Sherlock reading a book to Rosie, voice low and soft. Rosie was captivated by the sound of his voice, just as Molly had become as she entered the room.  The expression of her ovaries exploding caught her by surprise. Dammit, why did it seem like he’d be an excellent father.  He couldn’t even ask her out on a date properly.

“Ready,” Molly said so as to not startle Rosie.

The day at the park was enjoyable as it could be. Rosie loved swinging and running through the grass.  By the time they were done, she was sleeping against Sherlock’s shoulder while Molly pushed Rosie’s carriage.

“You should put her down now.”

“I don’t want to wake her.”

Rosie was drooling on Sherlock’s jacket, but he didn’t seem to mind one bit.  Why did Molly find that so attractive?

By the time they made it back to Baker Street, John was already there.  Taking Rosie in his arms, he rolled his eyes at Sherlock.

“I told you.”

“Yes, you did.”

“You apparently did not listen.”

“Oh, I did.”

Molly had no idea what the two were going on about.

“She was an angel, John,” Molly interjected.

“Prat,” Molly heard John mumble as Sherlock helped John get everything into his car.

Once John was off, both Sherlock and Molly stood beside the door to go back inside.

“I should go.  This was a wonderful idea.  Thank you for asking.”

Molly turned to go, but Sherlock’s hand on her arm stopped her.

“I, we, um, we didn’t, I mean.”

“Sherlock Holmes, at a loss for words.”

Sherlock shook his head yes, agreeing with her statement.  Standing on her tippy toes, Molly placed a light kiss on his lips. His neck turned beet red, eyes widening at the gesture.  Clearing his throat not once, but two times, his pinky wound around hers.

“Stay,” he whispered to her.

It didn’t take him long to have her inside, pushed up against the wall right beside the door.  As his lips made their way down her neck, Molly realized that she hadn’t even showered that day, much less even brushed her hair all that well.  It didn’t seem to matter to Sherlock at all, with his shirt damp from Rosie’s drool, and possibly dirt covering one of his legs.

“Upstairs,” Molly sighed as his hands worked down her backside.

 

“I did tell you.”

“You most certainly did not.”

“Rosie is not a chick magnet.”

“I agree. She’s a Molly magnet,” Sherlock chuckled.

“Why do I even bother?”

“Because you know I’m right.”

“Doesn’t make it right though.”

“We were babysitting.”

“That was two months ago.”

Molly stepped into the room, bags in hand with groceries.

“Oh, John. Hello.”

“Molly.”

John turned to see Molly enter the room.  The look in Sherlock’s eyes was unmistakable.  The man was purely, entirely in love with this woman, no matter the way she dressed, the way she acted, nothing.  He wondered whether it would be sooner rather than later that he’d see Sherlock have his own Rosie.

 


End file.
